


Little Magicks

by purple101



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU: Magic Realism, F/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-07-23 05:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16152962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple101/pseuds/purple101
Summary: Felicity believes in science and facts and reality. So sometimes weird things happen around her, and there are cats hanging out at her apartment,  and, ok, the fern is growing crazy big, but like, there is not such thing as witches. Probably.





	1. Ordinary-ish Day

**Author's Note:**

> The story diverges from canon after 2x12-ish, and I changed Felicity's place at the company. So I have the beginnings of a real plot after this chapter, if you think I should continue. I got a very odd bug in my ear and decided to roll with it. The idea that Felicity is magic isn't original, but I still initially struggled b/c shes so ingrained in analytics and science. I'd like to hear some constructive criticism, if you have the time. Dialogue and pacing are not my forte. Anyway, hope you enjoy and their not too out of character.

To Felicity the picture in her head for witches was less Harry Potter-- don’t get her wrong, she loved Harry Potter; she was a Ravenclaw all the way-- more Kiki’s Delivery Service. And, weirdly, small gardens. The kinds with overflowing pots, plants overlapping, green completely indiscernible from each other. Humid and smelling of wet earth.

Plus, reasoned young Felicity, she could do more with a tablet than anyone could do with a wand.

All this to say: Felicity believed in magic when she was young, like she believes in happy endings. She believed in it in quiet, secret moments by herself. Moments like when she was sad and wished her dad was secretly a king and would pluck her out of her life and place her and her mom in a palace and everything would be perfect. Those silly moments when dreams and hopes are blurred, and she would believe anything could happen. Felicity thinks, now, that it all makes a good story, but there was _science_ and _facts_ and, well, reality.

It starts like this. Starling City was loud full of midday traffic, towering buildings, and rushed denizens on their lunch break. Dig and Felicity walked to the sub shop just up the street and left Oliver to smarm his way through a meeting with investors. The place is small and clean and never crowded. It was the kind of place where the workers remembered your order and referenced inside jokes about that time Felicity made that horrible five-dollar footlong joke. Felicity was, again, stuck in the awkward place where too much time had passed to ask the girl behind the counter’s name and now wished it were a chain restaurant just so she’d have a nametag.

“One meatball with provolone, a turkey wrap, and the special. Oh and a brownie. It’s doesn’t have-”

“Nuts? No, you should be safe.” The girl behind the counter smiles kindly. Felicity knows she’ll tip extra today, because she still hasn’t learned her name.

“So we’re buying food for the billionaire, now?” John teases leaning against the counter after Felicity refused his attempt to pay.

“Oliver the Grouch is more bearable when he’s not hangry. Not that you heard that from me. Or actually, you can tell him; Oliver doesn’t even know what hangry means.” Pop-culture phobic Oliver always reminded her of a middle-aged dad, too exacerbated to bother keeping up. As if he wasn’t a common pop-culture topic.

Diggle smirks conspiringly at her and grabs the to-go bags from over the counter with a smile that made the teenager blush. Felicity smiles to herself. Her stupid, handsome boys always catching fangirls.

“We stopping for coffee too?”

“I’m running on three and three-quarter hours of sleep; you bet your ass!” A chuckling Diggle holds open the door to the Starbucks for her as Felicity checks her app. The Starbucks was much more crowded than the sub shop and Diggle may have the patience of Job, but Felicity didn’t when it came to coffee. Diggle nods his head to the open table off to the side and they chat about tv shows they don’t watch and movies they’ve heard good things about, but haven’t had time to see, _yet._ Felicity was about to ask after Diggle’s not-as-secret-as-he-thinks relationship, when her order is called. She grabs the four large coffees, ranging from diabetic coma inducing or black as greasepaint, in a carrier. Diggle offers to carry it too, but Felicity insists. 

“Just because my arms aren’t the size of cannonballs does not mean they don’t work.” Except she’s also carrying her large, _professional business woman_ purse and her jacket, because it had warmed up, draped across her forearm, and well Grace had never been her middle name.  So when she’s looking down trying to keep the jacket from dragging on the dirty sidewalk, she walks right into the wall that is John Diggle’s back. Felicity hops back and apologizes; Diggle gestures to the red “Don’t Walk” signal and tries to steady her. All while, coffee sloshes comically into the air, lids popping off.

Then it falls back into the same cups like entropy didn’t even apply.

 _Something out of a cartoon,_ Felicity thinks, then blinks, then blinks again.

Sleep deprivation is bad. Especially when it was a near daily habit. And Diggle is already guiding her across the street, so she had just imagined it.

* * *

 

If Felicity was looking for something, she could find it. To paraphrase her own motto. But really, even outside of the digital world (not something Felicity says often), Felicity always had whole pairs of socks and found find her keys in her purse on the first try. It had seemed like her most important job, when working as Oliver’s EA. Oliver’s inability to find the right paperwork probably stemmed from general disinterest. (OK so he cared about the company; Felicity knew that. But he cared about it the way dog people cared about their friend’s cat. They cared because it was important to someone who was important to them. They were not personally invested. Oliver's ideas about duty and personal responsibility were exhausting. Literally.) Oliver misplaced the quarterly report six times in the fifteen minutes before a meeting once. He just kept putting it down to make some point about _their not-salacious nightly activities_ and then would try to leave again without them.

So, she wasn’t surprised when she got a call from him asking if she knew where the expense reports were. Even though she hadn’t seen him since she dropped off his lunch-- he had made that kicked-puppy face when he realized he would be stuck on the phone and couldn’t break to eat with her and Diggle-- two hours ago and is down five floors in Applied Sciences. Typical, he didn’t even say hi.

“I swear they were right here. Do you remember where I put them?”

“Oliver, you have a perfectly _qualified_ EA twenty feet away. Just ask him.”

“I asked him ten minutes ago. He’s going to think I’m an idiot.”

“Hmmhmm.”

“Felicity,” he grumble-growls, then sighs, “do you know where it is or not?”

“No, but,” Felicity spins her chair around. The team is working with smelting tools, goggles, gloves, the whole works. She isn’t much help down here. “I’ll head up and see if I can give you a hand with your thing. Um, I mean, papers.”

Well trained Oliver just thanks her, but Felicity could hear his smirk. _I mean the nerve._

Gerry greets Felicity with a knowing smile. _Looks like he already knows you lost your papers again Oliver._ “Thanks for the coffee. I really needed the pick me up.”

“No problem. More people should get coffee for the assistants.” Felicity passes him and tries for her best wink. Gerry looked oddly charmed, so maybe she’d gotten it right.

Pushing into Oliver’s office always gave her a weird Deja-vu. She left like maybe she should be stomping. Not that it had helped. Applying for a position in Applied Sciences without telling Oliver had worked better. And though it led to an all-out shouting match, it worked out better in the end for everyone.

 _\--“Oh the irony. How_ could _I? How could you? At least when I didn’t tell you, it was my own life. Not yours. Or is your convenience still more important than my career and aspirations?” --_

Oliver was bent over a filing cabinet Felicity swore he didn’t even know was there before. His tie was thrown over his shoulder in frustration, and his shirt sleeves were bunched up roughly, like he had found them restricting. Which was ironic when you consider those leather pants and… _that way be dragons_.

“Where was the last place you had it?”

“The first place I looked! It wasn’t there!” He didn’t even look up, just grabbed what had to be a small novel of files and slapped them onto his already white paper mountain desk.

“Do you want me to print out a new copy?” Felicity, rational voice of Team Arrow. Ok, that is Dig, but still she is second string, here to fill in when needs must.

“No, I wrote my notes on it. I need that copy.” Oliver finally looked up, in a way that was pure coincidence, staring right into her eyes as he emphasized need. Then he ran his hand through his hair, you know because the universe is against Felicity personally.

“Ok, I’ll check over here,” she jabs her thumb towards the seating area with the couch. Oliver groans loudly behind her. “No use, I haven’t been over there today. All my meetings were over the phone.” She ignores him, because it is just venting, and Felicity has developed an Oliver filter. Not a useful verbal one, but a ignore-him-he-has-issues-stemming-from-trauma/privilege/male stupidity-so-yelling-won’t-help filter. It helps, because Oliver hates been ignored more than he needs to be right (some of the time).

“Maybe I dropped it in the trash on accident…” he began to mumble to himself.

“Voila!” With a horrible France accent Felicity grabs the papers off the couch cushion seating perfectly center, not a single crease.

Oliver’s mouth hangs open like a fish. Not his best look. “The words you’re looking for are thank and you. Preferably in that order. I also accept gifts.”

“I didn’t put them there.” Oliver tries to defend himself. Or explain. He doesn’t sound defensive, just confused. His head even does that puppy-tilt. “I only sit there when we do lunch.”

“Maybe they got blown over here.” Which Felicity doesn’t believe, but Oliver seems to need the excuse.

He gave her a look that told her he knew she was trying to pacify him and wasn’t impressed. He opens his mouth, but then Gerry knocks on the door. A subtle hint that Oliver has just enough time to straighten up before he needs to leave for his meeting. Gerry really is good at this EA-ing thing.

Felicity steps towards Oliver, handing him his papers and straightening his tie. Maybe giving it an extra tug, not because she thinks ties are hot or that it matches his dumb blue eyes or anything. Smiling up at him, she tries to say nonverbally good luck and _you got this_ and also _how would you do it without me._

Oliver smiles back and the moment stretches as he shrugged _I don’t even know_ back like he understood that last one. “Thank you.”

Then Oliver walked her to the door, hand at the small of her back. She turns back at the last second and gives her newly successful wink another go.

 _Why is it so cute that she’s so bad at that?_ Oliver thought as he looks down at the annotated pages. Wondering at the lack of creases from the envelope it had arrived in.

* * *

 That night at the Lair Felicity settles in. As the boys beat each other up to warm up-- boys are weird--, Felicity reboots her system. Tonight wasn’t a busy night. They had made a large bust the night before (hence little 3 ¾ hours of sleep), leading the police to a warehouse full of illegal munitions and tied up baddies. By all rights they should be resting (read: sleeping) on their laurels. _Wow, avoid that phrase for now on._ Except they hadn’t had a chance to celebrate the night before and by mutual silent agreement they wanted a moment of camaradery. A respite with each other: an easy night, back to routine.

Roy trudged down the stairs carrying three large pizza boxes. Maybe it’s cheating to make the youngest member be the delivery boy, but this way Diggle, Felicity and Oliver take turns (Oliver more than his share) paying without slighting Roy’s pride. Plus his role on the team was still largely training and small patrols, so he didn’t have to be below Verdant as early as the others.

“Order up!” He flopped them on the med table with all the concern for hygiene one expects from a teenage boy.

“Careful! I will send you back if the pepperoni’s ruined,” Diggle joked. Probably.

“Yeah, yeah.” Roy flipped the lid on the meat lovers and sandwiched two pieces together.

“Careful, that’ll all go to your hips.” Felicity grabbed the paper plates she keeps near the mini fridge and some napkins. As she hands a handful of napkins to Roy, he smirks cheeks still full of food like a squirrel. He sets down the pizza, jerks up the hem of his shirt, “yeah, I think I’m alright.”

“Ow!”

“Aren’t you dating my sister?”

“I was just joking. She thinks it’s funny, damn.” Roy gestured to the giggling Felicity. Oliver’s frown got frownier.

“I’m trying to eat here,” gripes Diggle.

After they ate, Diggle volunteers to take out the trash as Felicity tidies up and Roy changes for training (aka water slapping). Grumbling again that it was just a joke, Roy walked by Felicity watering the Lair Fern. “Have you been giving that thing miracle grow?”

“Hmm? No, actually I was really worried at the beginning that I’d need to find different bulbs so it would get enough light, but I guess it’s thriving on its own.”

“Blondie, it’s growing out of its pot. You don’t even water it that often.”

“What? Yes, I do! I mean, yeah sometimes hacking can get distracting, but I normally water it once a week. Oh god, is that not enough? How much water do ferns need?”

“I don’t know, maybe Dig waters it. He’s kinda the mother around here.”

“I heard that!”

“See?” Oliver smacked Roy on the back of the head again.

“Go get changed. I’m going add twenty push-ups every minute you take.”

Felicity put down her pink watering can and tried to calculate how often she really remember to water the fern. It was not as many as she’d hoped. “Oliver, how have I not killed this plant. I’m awful with plants. I once had a succulent in college to warm myself up to eventually have a dog. I was so proud that I kept it alive for a semester, when my roommate informed me that it was fake.”

Oliver gallantly tried to stifle his smile. “I water it Felicity, its fine.”

“What?” The image of Starling City’s menacing vigilante using her small, pink watering can was short-circuiting her brain.

Oliver shrugged and stuck his hand in his pockets looking down. “Yeah, I’m here a lot and you really wanted to liven the ‘drafty old basement’, so I took care of it.” Is Oliver Queen sheepish? Is Oliver “peed on a cop car” Queen embarrassed?

Felicity flashed him a blinding smile before she realized it. She reached out and touches his arm. “Thank you.”

Before their left for the night Roy mentioned it again to Felicity. “Look, Blondie, I think your pant’s radioactive. It’s already bigger than earlier.” True enough one frond extended over the side of the table. Felicity still too happy to be concerned, shrugged. It had just been very well watered.


	2. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're invited to a Halloween bash at Felicity Smoak's. There will be snacks, games, and jack-o-lanterns! No RSVP necessary. Costumes are not required but encouraged.
> 
> PS: Forgot to mention, but Roy is the Karate Kid.

Felicity grew up on superstitions. It was all part of growing up in Vegas, the daughter of a cocktail waitress. There were so deeply ingrained that even with years of science classes and knowing better, she still did them. She didn’t step on cracks; never told someone happy birthday a day early; she respected jinx.

There were just somethings you never outgrew. Like Halloween. Felicity refused to spend another year trying to sneak out of a smelly club packed with the underdress and overserved. She invited her friends and neighbors for a small get together, filled up on candy for trick-or-treaters, and made themed snacks.

“Thanks for helping me set up!” Felicity said to her neighbor from two doors down, Nicole. She was the one who had done all the oven work for the good of everyone.

“Oh, no problem; I’m just glad you texted me before you set the oven to 450 celsius.” Nicole put down a tray of sugar cookies and fixed her large witch hat out of her eyes.

Felicity laughed sheepishly. Wouldn’t be the first time. Something her building was unfortunately aware of. 3 am fire drills were something Felicity had hoped to leave behind in college. “Still, you’re a lifesaver.”

Just then someone knocked on her door. “I’ll get it!” Felicity tried to subtly fix the the top of her costume as she walked through the living room, muttering under her breathe, “please be Dig with the ice.”

Sure enough there stood Diggle and Lyla, dressed casually.

“My hero!” Felicity reached up on her toes to kiss Dig’s cheek, then awkwardly stopped staring wide-eyed at his deadly, super-spy ex-wife/girlfriend. Diggle just laughed and pulled her in for a hug shaking his head. “Hi Lyla! It’s great to see you out of prison- I mean you look really good. No- I mean, I not hitting on you!” Felicity sighed counting down in her head, as Dig gallantly held in his laugh and Lyla’s face morphed became more and more confused. Felicity tried again, “I’m really glad you came. It nice to see you again under better circumstance.” _Does this count as a first impression? Can I redo a second impression?_

Lyla smiled kindly, “Felicity, you are exactly as Dig described. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Decided not to dress up?”

“You don't recognize me? I’m a black driver.” Felicity rolled her eyes. Dressed up as something he wasn’t even on his day off.

“I’m a divorcee.” Felicity choked on her tongue. Her head whipped back between the pair as they shared a fond look.

“Haha…? Come on in. You’re some the first here. Could you take the ice to the kitchen, Dig?”

Before she shut the door, the elevator opened down the hall. Felicity spied two coworkers from Applied Sciences and Nicole’s roommate, Ravina. She wasn’t as social as she used to be, what with having to jobs and a bunch of secrets in her head. It was a nice change to enjoy her down time off of her couch for a change. She leaned out the door and waved enthusiastically. Was Curtis dressed as Frozone from The Incredibles?

* * *

“Thanks for coming, Oliver! And Thea and boy…?” Felicity voice got quieter as she spoke. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of who knew and to what extent were all of their lives interconnected outside of crime fighting. Felicity tried to think back quickly if she’d ever been introduced to Roy before this moment. Probably at some stuffy QC event or something at the mansion.

Oliver was dressed in a tux, which made Felicity feel very underdressed at her own party, but she also _really_ didn’t want him to change. Thea was dressed as a flapper with a gorgeous and probably real diamond headband a la Gatsby. Roy on the other hand was in a gi with a kerchief tied around his forehead. The left corner of Oliver’s mouth hitched up, while Thea just smiled. “Hey, Oliver invited us along; he seemed to think it would be a nice break of the club. This is my boyfriend, Roy, who is too cool for couples costumes, apparently.”

“You made me be Magic Mike last year. Do you know how cold it was? I almost lost a nipple.”

Oliver looked like he wished he'd gone deaf on the island. Thea rolled her eyes and smiled conspiringly at Felicity. That nudged Felicity back into awareness, “please come in! I have witches’ brew punch-- it’s really just Sprite, cranberry juice and dry ice -- and candied apples and pigs in a blanket that look like mummies!” 

Roy had already bee-lined for the food, dragging Thea along. Oliver shut the door and Felicity allowed herself another moment to enjoy the suspenders. “When I said dress up party I kinda meant costumes, not black tie, Oliver.”

Oliver straightened his cufflinks, “that’s Agent 007 to you.” He gave her an in-character smirk looking her up and down, slowly. He leaned down to whisper in Felicity’s ear, “you look wonderful.”

Felicity flushed, looked away and started towards the living room-- “Wait! Was that a pun? A bad pun?” Oliver winked at her heading passed her to greet Diggle and Felicity's flush returned. “The cheek! I do look wonderful. I should get him with my lasso-- No, not like that!” She froze. Good, no one heard that.

Time for a drink.

* * *

Felicity had planned out a couple of party games, but everyone seemed content to talk and eat among themselves, so she set the toilet paper/mummy wrap away. Curtis, the first person to befriend her in Applied Sciences, took over as DJ, connecting his Spotify to the bluetooth speakers. After he played Monster Mash twice though, Diggle gave him a hard stare and it hadn’t happened again. Felicity’s old friend from IT, Eric, and Lyla were chatting, Nicole and her roommate were manning the door armed with three buckets of candy, and Oliver even looked like he was smiling. 

Felicity walked into the kitchen to see him giving criticism but very little help to Roy as he cleaned up a spill. “Oliver Queen, have you failed with party?”

Oliver gave her his patented side-eye. “It wasn’t me,” he gestured to the smug looking tabby swishing her tail. “I didn’t know you had a cat.”

"I don’t. Not really. It just a friendly stray. I leave food out, and it crashes with me sometimes. All the joys of cat ownership, none of the litter box duties.”

It saddled up to Oliver giving him an experimental sniff before sitting back and hissing.  
“Pixie!” Felicity exclaimed, dismayed. She was normally such a good girl.

“You named the stray?” Oliver lifted a judgmental eyebrow but was smiling indulgently. He seemed completely unfazed at the rejection.

“It’s short for pixel. Calling her It made me think of that Stephen King movie.”

“The one with the clown?” Thea joined in. “Ollie showed that to me as a kid. Gave me nightmares for weeks.”

“That was Tommy. I told you to go to bed.”

“And that didn’t work?” Roy added sarcastically, handing Thea a smoking cup of potion.

“Not the point. I think she’s cute.” Thea bend down and let the cat assess her before rubbing her ears. So, it wasn’t a Queen prejudice then. “Hey, Ollie-”

“No.” Undeterred, Thea scooped up Pixie and turned with her in her arms to give Roy and Oliver the combined powers of their Bambi eyes. In one voice they spoke, “no.”

Chucking to herself, Felicity took Pixie from Thea to put her in her bedroom for safe keeping. She placed her on the blanket she kept for her on the end of the bed in a futile attempt to avoid cat hair. “You be good, ok? I have a special treat for you after everyone leaves.” Pixie stared up at her and nodded in agreement. Felicity blinked. When she looked again Pixie was licking her paw.

“What did you do to get around the no pet policy here?” Felicity jumped. Nicole was standing behind her peeking into her bedroom; her all black outfit made her blend in with the shadowed hallway. “I had to pay an extra four hundred a month and claim Bandit was an emotional support animal.”

“Oh, well, I don’t really have a pet. She really was just this stray I would feed. Then she started bringing me presents and when it got cold, I couldn’t just leave her out there.” Felicity didn’t think Nicole would snitch but she still felt on the spot, speaking quicker, cracking her knuckles and rubbing her pinky.

Nicole smiled knowingly back. “When was that? Back in September?”

“Yeah just after my birthday.”

“Twenty-three, that’s a big year.”

“Is it?” came out automatically. Felicity tried to back track. She felt like she had been away from her guests long enough. “Want to help me take the foot out of the oven?”

“What!”

“Don’t worry. Mrs. Kavinsky from down the hall sent it over as a sorry-I-couldn’t-make-it gift. It’s basically a meatloaf made to look like a foot.” Felicity directed her back towards the kitchen.

* * *

 

Joining Lyla over by the punch, Felicity got to know her, while subtly fishing for anything to tease Diggle about. Lyla asked if Felicity had a thing for crime fighters. After stammering and blushing, she realized Lyla was referencing her costume choice. This led to some more blushing and then a lecture on how awesome Wonder Woman was, then it devolved into Felicity finally asking if Lyla knew how to fight with a lasso. By the end of Lyla’s answer, Felicity both thought she was the perfect match for Diggle and was very afraid of her ability to turn household objects into weapons.

Diggle came over. Cupping the back of Lyla’s elbow, he made eye contact with Felicity, “forgot something in the car.”

“If it’s another bag of ice, it’s probably melted by now-- Oh!” Diggle just raised his eyebrows. “The green thing in your car. Do you need my help… lifting it?”

Dig snorted, “Nah, I think we can manage. Stay with your guests.” He turned his attention to girlfriend. “Want to go trick or treating?”

“Are you the treat?” And Felicity was walking away.

Oliver was already at the door. “Roy’s going to give Thea our excuses.” He stepped in closer hand at the small of her back as if saying a personal goodbye, “its a string of robberies. Three thugs just a couple blocks over. Sorry, we're bailing on your party.”

Felicity shrugged. She had had too good of a time to be bothered now. Plus she had complete faith in her boys, especially having Lyla watching their backs. She smiled and gestured to herself, “you sure you don’t need any help? I have super strength and a magical truth rope.”

“Maybe next time.” The corner of his lip tucked up again and his eyes were extra blue as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. Diggle followed him out the door, squeezing her shoulder warmly.

“Happy Halloween, Felicity,” Lyla said in farewell.

* * *

The last of the stragglers had said their goodbyes, but Felicity felt full of energy. She stretch her arms above her head and gave herself a moment of silence to see what she wanted to do. There were some dishes to do and some battery powered candles to put out. Nothing that couldn’t wait. She walked onto her tiny balcony and looked out.

The wind rushed around her and it felt right. For weeks with all the Arrow activity and the stress of super-serums and not-dead arch nemesis, and, gosh, all of it, Felicity left the voices in the back of her head go quiet. It was like she had been living under a low ceiling slowly confining her, always just outside of her peripheral, nagging and discomforting her, and she had finally gone outside.

The moon was bright. Felicity felt the urge to reach out and touch it. She turned around and hopped up onto the black metal railing. Hands holding on at either sides of her thighs, she felt daring and fearless. She wanted to scale a building or jump off a rooftop. She leaned back and let the wind whip her hair into her face, laughing loudly. She wanted to _fly._

A crash on the street below her made Felicity jump. She squealed as she lost her balance, swinging back. Felicity’s nails scraped for purchase and she tried to lean back forward. Suddenly a strong wind blow from below. It pushed at her like hands and in seconds her was standing on the balcony.

“Nope, nope, nope,” Felicity muttered to herself. She knew she needed to get back inside, but she couldn’t move. She clutched at her pounding heart and couldn’t seem to get enough air in her lungs. “Ok, you’re ok. We’re not doing that again, but you’re ok.”

When her legs stopped shaking as badly, she stumbled back inside. Pixie rubbed up against her legs, and she sank onto the couch.  

* * *

 

The DVR read 3:27 from her spot on the couch. The whole thing was a weird dry ice reaction. Why would she ever think sitting on the rail over a six story drop would be ok? Imagined near death experience or not, Felicity decided to put off cleaning till tomorrow. She just needed to sleep this weird feeling away.

Pixie glared at her from the arm of the couch. It was a judgy look. Can looks say, _don’t do that again?_


End file.
